


tant qu'l'amour inond'ra mes matins

by unhookingstarswithoutpermission



Category: American Revolution RPF, Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, George Washington is HOT, George wants to learn French, In french, Lafayette is mostly horny, Lazy Mornings, Multi, Nonbinary Marquis de Lafayette, PWP, Pet Names, Pillow Talk, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Shameless Smut, Washette - Freeform, i'm writing porn about the founding fathers and i'm not even american
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-18
Updated: 2016-07-18
Packaged: 2018-07-24 19:21:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7520089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unhookingstarswithoutpermission/pseuds/unhookingstarswithoutpermission
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Laf shoots him a murdering look, because they are hot and bothered and he must be kidding, for the love of everything that's sacred, he can't just leave them like this. “I'm </i>literally<i> offering you to eat me out like there's no tomorrow and you think about breakfast? You hurt me, idiot”, they remark, eyeing George's body, which isn't retreating anymore. He pokes them in the side and jokes, a shit-eating grin on his lips: “Hey, I understood that – it's rude.”</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	tant qu'l'amour inond'ra mes matins

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted an excuse to write some smut. That's it. And it's actually my first time writing smut, so I hope I haven't fucked up?  
> Idk. This couple is strange but I've grown to love it??? They're so cute??? And I love pet names, especially in French.  
> I also love Edith Piaf, and the title of this is taken from her "Hymne à l'amour".  
> I'm really really sorry if I messed up Laf's pronouns! I have reread this a million times but I'm still not sure they're alright, so...

 

The soft, tender sunlight enters gently from the window in their bedroom, leaving a golden path on George's dark skin. Laf doesn't even dare to breathe too loudly, afraid of ruining the moment, their head resting on his chest, their eyes following its steady rise and fall. George's breath caresses the tip of their hair, let loose from the usual ponytail, while they sweep their fingertips over the barely outlined abs they are resting upon. They both are stark naked and tangled into each other, cover shaken away and pooling at the feet of their bed, the warm, pleasurable spring air enveloping them.

Laf has no idea what they have done to deserve such a wonderful thing: they probably were a hero in their past life, or something like that. Otherwise, there is no tangible reason they should be in this situation, no logical explanation: they are in bed with none other than George fucking Washington, a gorgeous, kind man who they have been smitten with since they first saw him. A rush of love and adoration makes them shake all over, and they are about to climb their way up George's body and kiss him senseless just because they _can_ when their cellphone rings. And since it's Hamilton's texts notification they can't just ignore it – which George suggests pointedly, surrounding their middle with a strong arm and trying to bring them back to bed. Laf skims through the text and sighs dramatically. “I'm, how you say, done with this shit.” they hold the phone up, so that George can pluck it from their hands and read the text as well. “You deal with it, _mon chou_ ”, they state, faking their annoyance.

“Morning Laf, can you ask Washy if Alex can get the morning off? Liza says hi”, George reads out loud. Laf erupts in laughter at John's nickname, knowing well enough the way their boyfriend must hate it with all his heart. “Tell John he can”, George says at last, “and that I want to discuss his choice of nicknames sooner rather than later.” Laf chuckles again and types in the reply, including the comment about the diminutive. They shut their phone before putting it on the nightstand, since they should have done it the night before. George asks, casually, “Wasn't that Alex's notification, though? Why was John writing?” Laf turns over and faces him, trying not to get distracted by all of his naked glory. “Because your _son_ ”, and they love the way George doesn't even bother correcting them, because come on, it's _adorable_ , “is way too similar to you in this kind of things. You are always, always working, _trésor_ ”. George pulls a strange face at that, and Laf just leans in and kisses the tip of his scrunched-up nose. “I know you're probably trying to save this country while you work, so that's alright”, they say, not leaning back even a bit. They actually throw one of their long legs over George's and pull closer to him, gracing his left pectoral – just below one of the scars George hates, but despises a little less when it's Laf worshipping them – with his lips before continuing. “And you surely know how to make me forgive you when you have days off”, they say, wiggling their eyebrows suggestively. George chuckles and kisses them, soft and sweet. “I try to give you only the best, darling”, he coos, and Laf sticks their tongue out at him and says: “Gross”, indignant. “You love it”, George responds, and his laughter lines deepen just a bit. “Shut up, _ma_ _raison d'etre_ ”, Laf replies, and they adore the way George's eyebrows furrow as he tries to understand what Laf has just said. He has picked up more than a couple of pet names, due to Laf's incessant use of them, but sometimes they will utter some complicated endearment he has never heard before that will leave him defeated. The last time it happened, Laf had called him, in succession, “cabbage” and “teddy bear”. John and Eliza were more than delighted hearing that, crooning and awing, while Alex and Jefferson had pulled a face; Alex had also added, speed talking in French, something along the lines of “please can you not”. 

While he had zoned out Laf had taken the chance to hide their face into his neck, by then purring against him like a cat, leaving kisses in their wake. “Laf?”, he mumbles under his breath. “Yeah, _mon amour_?” George breathes them in; they're so close he can feel their breath tickling his skin, their lips tracing the shadow of his stubble. “Why don't you teach me some French?”, he asks. Laf watches him closely, considering his request, then replies, “I wouldn't see you get all confused when I talk, though”. They giggle, backing away enough to lock their gazes together. “Yeah”, George says, “but you would love hearing me talk in your language”. “You could get distracting”, Laf admits, then they stop, like they are thinking about it, and add, “more than you already are”. George smiles the gentle and sweet smile that only Laf gets to see. “We could try, later”, Laf says, and they know he will consider their words a promise.

Neither of them adds another word to the discussion, though, because George's stomach rumbles and Laf finds themself chuckling at how cute he is. “I think you need to eat”, they state, then they tighten the leg draped over his and get even closer to him, until they are all but pressed flush against one another. They are both always horny, and the heated, dark look George drapes over their body makes them thrilled and excited. But then George kisses them way more chastely than they were expecting and says, beginning to get away: “I'll make breakfast, c'mon”. Laf shoots him a murdering look, because they are hot and bothered and he  _must_ be kidding, for the love of everything that's sacred, he can't just leave them like  _this_ . “I'm  _literally_ offering you to eat me out like there's no tomorrow and you think about breakfast? You hurt me,  _idiot_ ”, they remark, eyeing George's body, which isn't retreating anymore. He pokes them in the side and jokes, a shit-eating grin on his lips: “Hey, I understood that – it's rude.” 

They are sure they will explode if he doesn't touch them right now. “Oh, for the love of-” Laf huffs and rolls over, so that they are earnestly  _straddling_ George's thighs. He feels like he could die in that exact same moment, overwhelmed by the sight of their lithe, golden body towering proudly over him. They are beautiful, soft and strong, a grin stretched over their lips, standing in a position that makes George so damn aware of their weight on him but not aware  _enough_ . He's been staring for what feels like hours and he knows that, so he doesn't even flinch when Laf murmurs, voice rough and low, “See something you like?” 

George's hands clench around their hips and Laf chokes out a moan, knowing that there will be bruises later because their skin is ridiculously sensitive. “You will be the death of me, sweetheart”, mumbles George, which makes Laf giggle and bend over him, reaching low enough to leave the faintest resemblance of a kiss on the corner of his mouth. It should be ridiculous that this gesture, among all that's happening at the moment, is what makes George's heart race, but he's a sucker for them, he's always been. So he sits up on the bed, after having landed a hand on the small of their back to keep them upright, initiates a kiss which is way more heated than the previous ones. When they eventually have to come up for air Laf laughs and nuzzles in his neck, dizzy and definitely not able to think straight anymore, and breathes out, lips just below his ear, “So you  _are_ going to eat me out”. 

George doesn't reply but he smirks, then he grips their hips even more forcefully and turns them around. Laf finds himself caged in between his strong arms, George so near but  _not_ touching them anywhere, and they just want to cry out. Instead, when George leans down and bites just below their collarbone they muffle out, “ _Dieu_ ”, and try not to choke before something has actually happened. They can't remember how to breathe though, because George puts his mouth on their breasts, which are already sensitive without the added stimulation of George's lips that are fucking  _everywhere_ , thank you very much, and Laf can't help but wrap their legs around his hips, pressing up against him as much as they can. They don't think they can speak coherently right now, neither in English nor in French. The tension in their body doesn't leave even when George trails down, murmuring praises and reassurances against the skin of their ribs and their chest, which would calm them down if one of George's hands wasn't still fondling their breast, which is honestly cruel and  _unfair_ . Laf is not usually loud in bed, too preoccupied with biting off French curses and holding back moans that would probably scare their neighbors to death. But now that George is nipping down their belly, following the lighting-like path of their stretchmarks, and then he's fucking kissing along their labia, nothing restrains Laf from screaming his name out loud. Since they are propped up against the pillows they see the fucking grin their shout puts on George's lips, barely moments before he dives in and he laps into them like a thirsty man drinking from a fountain, and they tilt their head back against the headboard of the bed, almost knocking it. They rest their hands on George's head and keep them there, not even pressing, knowing well enough George doesn't need to be guided in this situation. Laf almost dies, again, when they feel the low, rumbled moans that George is breathing against them, and if they had the strength to pull him away – they don't, of course – they would kiss him senseless and propose another way to get both of them off, but the day is still young. And, truth be told, it's been so long since they had this much time on their hands. So they just decide to bask in what's currently happening and they spread their legs even more, which only incites George to go on. Laf completely forgets their English once George is licking their clit and they are left breathless, murmuri ng: “ _S'il te plait, baise-moi_ , please, _je t'adore_ , oh god,  _prends-moi_ -”. They know well enough how their French dirty talk – kind of dirty talk, anyway, because they aren't remotely as good at that as George is – effects him, because his hands start wandering from their hip to their breasts, and he becomes just the right side of rough with both his tongue and his touches. Laf feels their body tensing up and their muscles clenching and then they are coming harder than they'd expected to, breathless, eyes closed and hands gripping at George's shoulders. 

They don't open their eyes until they feel George's finger caressing their jawline, his voice calling them by his first name. When they do find the force to look at him again, though, they find him staring in amazement and they have to lean in and peck his lips, which taste of both of them combined and make them shudder all over. “Give me, like, two minutes and I'll help you out”, Laf manages to say. They don't expect his reply: “To be honest, there is nothing to help me with”. They are confused for all of a pair seconds, before they giggle and kiss his cheek, while he pointedly avoids their gaze. “You are  _incredible_ ”, Laf states, kissing him again, this time on the lips, “and if you grant me fifteen minutes and a cup of coffee, I'll fuck your brains out, I swear”, they add, voice low and rough, earning themself a grunt of appreciation and another bite on their neck. “Coffee first”, they remark again, and they can almost hear the conflict happening in their lover's brain. At last, George stands up – stark naked, and he doesn't even consider putting on clothes – and offers them an hand, smiling softly. “Let's go, I'll make us breakfast – if you don't jump on me again”. Laf looks at the outline of his body. “I can't promise that.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I warned you. I LOVE pet names.  
> hmu on [tumblr](http://unhookingstarswithoutpermission.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/imonthetardis)!


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